


Memento

by metronome



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metronome/pseuds/metronome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The time I have spent with you is precious and irreplaceable to me, never forget that."</p><p>Robin's image is burned into Chrom's memory, and it shines brighter than the sun and the stars. Spoilers for the end of Fire Emblem: Awakening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo, first AO3 post! Here's a series of drabbles with continuity dedicated to the OTP that ruined my life forever. I wrote this at 5AM please forgive my horrible syntax and such.

Frederick greets the mourning prince with a gift.

"I was told to deliver this to you at this exact time."

An adroitly written epistolary, dated to yesterday, Chrom’s name graces the envelop in slightly smudged ink. It smells of him; it is so carefully folded it _must_ be from him – Chrom’s hands shake as he hastily opens it and unfolds the paper within. His breath hitches with anxiety.

 

> _I lied._
> 
> _I told you I would not, but I lied._
> 
> _I’m leaving you alone to pick up the pieces, but you are a prince – if there is anyone I have faith in to recreate this world for the better, it is you. Not once has your strength faltered, not once have I ever questioned you, because upon waking from the dark you were my first sight and my warmest memory._
> 
> _Perhaps the last dinner we share will create the everlasting smiles that Ylisse deserves, after such a bloody and long-drawn conflict._ _When you smile, when you stand before me, the horizon seems much brighter. It gives me peace of mind, as it always has. I do not feel, or never felt worthy to be by your side, my love._
> 
> _This is a gesture of closure._
> 
> _The time I have spent with you is precious and irreplaceable to me, never forget that._

-       Robin

§

 

Their hands tighten; leather fabric and seams push together with such friction from their fingers intertwining so firmly that Robin thinks Chrom will never let go. Robin wonders if those are tears in his eyes, and never recalls seeing him falter. Chrom doesn’t notice.

They sit in reticent satisfaction, yet dawn draws ever near.

 

§

 

“You can’t,” Chrom slams the shorter man in front of him into the wall of his room with unnecessarily rough force using only the palm of his hand. Their eyes meet, and even with the intimidation of clear acrimony in the prince’s eyes, Robin does not falter in meeting his gaze. Chrom is the first to break it, and he only does so when he shifts his now fist from Robin’s shoulders to the wall he was pressed up against – his forearm supports his body as he leans in closer to the wall, closer to Robin.

For a brief moment, Robin catches the glimpse of the man he met only a short two years ago.

Chrom breathes cold air against Robin’s face in the form of a sigh, he bites his lips and furrows his brow as if the words he speaks are blades lacerating his skin and as every word escapes his lips they hiss and burn surface and he grimaces. He is not ready to accept defeat. He never is.

“I’m telling you, you can’t, so don’t even think about it.”

His head rests gently against the shoulder of Robin’s bolero and the fabric smells of him.

Robin places his hands on Chrom’s visible collarbone, then slides his fingers under his collar and averts his gaze as he begins to dictate his decision in dry repetition.

“One man’s life is not worth the world.”

Chrom nearly winces.

“You know I can’t do that.”

The prince lightly breathes in Robin’s smell with a hint of sentimentality that makes his nerves feel electrified. His muscles tighten in reflex; he hides his shameful expression within Robin’s collarbone.

“Think of your  _people_ , Chrom – I am not worth such pleading!”

“Don’t speak such foolish words!”

“They are words of logic,” Robin’s pitch elevates in retort.

“Please don’t go,” he begins in a needing tone, every word elongated as if weighted by his own selfish desire.

“We can find a way together.”

Robin’s hands cup Chrom’s face; he can feel the roughness that has textured him over the years, the shade under Chrom’s bright eyes that reminds him of the lingering misery. Emmeryn flashes through his mind and his chest tightens with anxiety of mort, but this impending dread goes unspoken. Chrom finds his way to Robin’s lips and he kisses him.

First with the roughness of fervor, letting a wanton sigh roll from his diaphragm and out into Robin’s pale skin, Robin can’t help the throbbing in his groin from that tamed longing. The kiss dissipates into apprehension as Chrom bites Robin’s lips with a predatory gaze, and grips his wrist as to leave bruises to remind him of his presence. His body grinds against Robin’s with desire, he can’t escape his thoughts, he feels so overcome and taken by the thought of losing him that he cannot help but want to make him forget this is an issue all together.

Between baited breaths, Chrom haphazardly repeats a phrase — I promise, I promise _, I promise_.  

“Take it out on me,” Robin nearly murmurs, short of breath.

“Take it all out on me if you need to.”

 

§

 

Chrom grinds his cock into Robin and he’s so fucking _tight_  that every push forward feels like he’s going to  _lose it_. Robin’s white hair sticks to his face with sweat, and curls around his cheek, and he’s digging his canines into lips trying not to wake every sleeping body in the castle with how badly he wants to yell Chrom’s name. Chrom is as loud as he wants to be in his domain, he thinks about his power over Robin as he fucks him, he thinks about how helpless he was when they first met;  he looks at Robin’s thin body as Robin’s hand explores Chrom’s toned abdomen and he’s so turned on by it.

 Robin’s legs are hooked over Chrom’s body as he slides up and down his dick and Chrom can feel his pre-cum on the inner curve of Robin’s thighs and it makes it that much easier to slide inside of him. He swears he sees Robin mouth “deeper,” as he watches his expression change from pained to pure ecstasy. Chrom, himself, is lost in aphrodisia, and angles himself while inside of Robin to pound into that spot that makes Robin break his façade of intellectuality and show some of that well-hidden appetite. Robin pulls his arms back and shields his eyes as he groans Chrom’s name with salaciousness and Chrom can’t help a throaty moan, satisfied with that outcome.

Feeling the pressure of release building up, Robin grips his own dick and begins to hastily rub the shaft with his moist hands – Chrom places his hand over Robin’s and follows his movements. His hips start to thrust with each stroke – picking up in speed and intensity – Chrom continues to push their hips together, until Robin can’t take it anymore and lets the feeling of orgasm wash over his shuddering body and he spills out on to Chrom – and his own abdomen. His muscles tighten around Chrom, and Chrom can feel himself nearing climax as well.

“I love you,” he says while Robin continues to constrict Chrom’s cock with involuntary muscle twitches.

“I want you,” he says while he arches his back and lets his wet hair drape downward and away from his face. His eyes flutter open briefly, greeted by candlelight gracing Robin’s flawless skin with an amber glow.

“I need you,” he says as he pushes himself inside Robin and the feeling of elation gathered by Robin’s small sounds and twitches makes him cum inside of him, and he makes sure he’s deep inside, right where Robin will be able to feel that warm fluid push out of him and drip along his ass and thighs and his body goes nearly-limp from the sudden lack of pressure.

“Oh, oh  _Gods_  – I’m sorry, I –“

Robin can’t help a hearty laugh as he catches his breath.

They entwine fingers and laugh together, letting their foreheads touch, exhaustion setting in. Chrom pulls out, and lies besides him, bringing their bed sheets to their shoulders – royal satin suited to grace the body of the man he needed and loved as much as his own breath.

Their gazes meet, and they suddenly remembered the tactician’s approaching death.

Silence overtakes the room.

 

§

 

An arrow lodges itself in Robin’s abdomen the next day, and Chrom stays by Robin’s bedside until the wound seals.

He rushes the healer with an abrasive tone, his voice cracking with anxiety.

“I’m sorry, my prince, I’m doing my best – please forgive me.”

Chrom lets his face fall into his hands, then glances back up at Robin’s sleeping body.

He looks peaceful.

 

§

 

Robin’s dinner goes untouched that evening, that is, until Chrom brings it over to his tent and spoons feeds it to him.

The resting man cringes as the liquid enters his mouth.

“My Gods, who was on cooking duty today? Were supplies so low that we are eating purely spices now?”

“Nowi.”

“Ah,” he finds himself corrected.

They chuckle, and Robin finds it in himself to finish the meal through pure adoration for his team; nothing more, nothing less.

 

§

 

They overlook the war-torn remains of a once flowery field from the height of a cliff; sunset battles twilight for the sky and it remains a fading mix of blood orange and indigo. Their robes and cape gently flow in the summer breeze.

The day draws closer.

“This war will be over soon, and we will rest easy from then on. No more of this fate and future business.”

Robin offers Chrom a gentle smile, his favourite sight.

“Lucina can have the future she deserves.”

Robin feels undeserving of him.

 

§

 

These are the figures of the night sky.

Fingers trace the invisible lines between each star, as if an invisible force pulls them together.

These clusters are shapes and meanings and hopes and dreams, the sky is often what soldiers look to upon their impending deaths, hoping that the end is painless and free of the grievances they left behind.

They rest back to back and keep their eyes on the glittering ceiling of darkness above them.

Never has their world – kept to steel and war - felt so vast.

Chrom leans his head against Robin’s own and nods off as he prattles on about tactics.

“Hey, can’t we just enjoy this for a little while?”

Robin pauses, a hint of bitterness clenching his throat up.

“… Yes, yes. You’re right. Sorry.”

 

§

 

Ruination plagues Robin’s dreams; first in the form of Grima becoming the very sky he gave to Chrom. The air itself became tar, tar so thick it drowned him in ebony weight. The second, an image of reaching for Chrom’s gloved hand on that fateful field with Lissa’s voice chiming behind him, Chrom speaks but his words are mute, Robin cries.

He wakes coated in sweat next to Chrom, his breathing is too harsh to conceal so it lulls the man out of his slumber until he’s clenching Robin’s shaking body and repeating his oath.

“I will save you.”

“You  _can’t.”_

“Even if it kills me, I will! This is my vow!”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep, Chrom,“ Robin lets out dry heaves, panic clutches his chest as if his skin were constricting his ribs and his throat cannot let words leave.

“I won’t.”

 

§

 

Dawn approaches quickly.

Chrom watches him sleep peacefully, his chest rising and falling softly.

He doesn’t want to wake him.

He wants to pretend this day is one long nightmare.

Robin leaves his bed at six in the morning, and watches Chrom's sleeping figure, placing a soft kiss on the man's cheek before dressing himself.

 

§

 

Robin bleeds and Chrom feels his heart wrench, his chest pains more from worry than it does from his wounds in battle and he clenches the left side of it.

Falchion glows with the exalted power, his body burns with determination. He pushes forward, beside his comrades, with Robin calling out orders before him.

Nothing has ever felt so natural, yet so terrifying.

Unyielding.

 

§

 

Robin stands before Grima, and they exchange words. Robin is far too kind-hearted – he wants to end things peacefully, even now.

He takes a step forward.

Grima’s smile is as sharp as broken glass.

Chrom’s legs have taken the weight of lead and he struggles to step forward. Robin takes those steps for him, as he always has, leading him to a brighter future purely because Chrom was his first and best friend.

No.

Robin takes Grima’s hands.

“ _I SEE YOU’VE MADE YOUR DECISION.”_

No, no,  _no_!

“I have. I will challenge this fate you have laid upon us!”

“ _YOU TRULY ARE NO MATCH FOR ME, IT IS A SHAME SOMEONE SO UNWORTHY WAS CHOSEN TO BEAR MY REBIRTH_.”

“I suppose so.”

Chrom falls to his knees, Falchion supporting his weakened spine. He now carries the burden of Robin’s life and that is enough to break him down. Somehow that idea is enough to bring him back to his senses, and back on to his feet. 

"Robin - what are you doing?!"

“ _I AM THE DARKNESS YOU CRAVE TO ENTER SO READILY_.”

Chrom breathlessly says Robin’s name as if that will stop him, it falls on deaf ears, silenced by the winding wind around him. He is blinded.

 

§

 

Grima looks up at Robin, they share the same face yet they are so vastly different. Grima's features are sharp and twisted, spiteful and bitter. Pained. Gaunt. Disgusting.

“I’m going to finish this!”

After dragging his weakened body towards Robin, Chrom brings his blade to Grima’s neck.

Robin raises his hand towards the sky, and lets the wind rustle his hair. A moment of peace and silence amongst the soldiers. He shuts his eyes and takes an audacious yet cautious breath.

Chrom questions him, with no immediate response. Grima follows suit and Robin continues to stay silent and step forward towards this face of hatred, a face which burdens the undying hostility of all the land. His own.

“… For once, I am glad you and I are the same.”

Chrom’s eyes widen.

“Now I can give my life to protect those I care for.”

A flare of purple light fills the air for a brief moment.

Grima screams in pain.

Robin gasps as his chest fills with a burning sensation akin to fire itself.

 

§

 

Robin clutches his neck, then ribs, aching, as his body begins to fade into the own darkness which he took Grima’s life with. Chrom attempts to run but the slow declining altitude of the fell dragon whose back they wage war on prevents him. Robin stands at the base of Grima’s neck and turns to face the man he loves, a smile plastered on his face as if nothing is wrong. The wind on his back will leave him, as well as the conflict that plagues this world.

The disappearance begins with his feet.

Chrom denies the sight in front of him. He refuses. Tears well up in his eyes and though it is a leader’s job to never show weakness, his shaking voice as he yells Robin’s name is hauntingly heavy and his comrades bow their heads in grief. There is a whisper of his name as their commentary falls into silence.

“May we meet again… in a better life.”

He thinks of the night, filled with stars, and that field, and the warmth of Chrom’s body and though his body is slowly disappearing into the very wind that guides Grima’s corpse, he seems content.

The word “no” has become familiar to Chrom in recent times.

Robin faces him and raises his hand, as if he were reaching out to him.

He mouths something.

Chrom can’t stop reaching for him.

Their hands brush.

Robin fades into the amber light of the morning, leaving behind his tattered robe which falls roughly into Chrom's extended hand.

 

§

 

Naturally, humans will deny fate.

Yet something tugs at Chrom day after day.

Little pieces are out of place, things that would normally make sense, don’t. Something is telling him that this missing piece is only temporary, yet day after day his heart and body yearn for Robin. His wife asks him if he is truly happy, and to satiate her he provides her with an expected answer, masking his own concerns. Something tugs at him from beyond and he can’t place it. 

He rolls up Robin’s maps and takes his books and cloak and stores them away again.

They still smell of him.

Chrom's body shudders, before he sobs quietly in isolation, torn.

 

§

 

Chrom searches for him afterward, he has sworn his life to finding Robin in that vast world, for he believes by sheer will alone, Robin is out there, alone and confused. There is nothing that denies that belief.

Days go by, then months, then even a year.

Robin’s items lose his scent.

Pages of his book fall out.

His maps take damage that cannot be fixed.

His cloak hangs idly in Chrom’s room.

Chrom sleeplessly stares at it, hoping for a sign from the very Gods he swears to.

“Let him be alive.”

His wife stirs in her sleep and questions him lovingly, he reassures her that it was just a startling dream and passes it off as such. Lucina laughs in her sleep and it just reminds him that her future will be full of the peace Robin sacrificed himself for, he rests his forehead against her small one and his chest feels warm.

 

You can't be in love with a cipher, a presence. You cannot love the idea of a person.

Chrom worries that he's losing it.

§

 

He dreams of the nights Robin and he spent together and relieves himself, miserably.

 

Time passes, and it feels like Chrom is starting to forget what it was like having him around. His position cannot be filled again, for there was no one who understood the inner workings of the prince's mind better than Robin himself.

 

Lucina turns three and starts to garner a curiosity for why Daddy always looks so lost. 

 

 

§

 

Robin wakes to a familiar scene; an outstretched hand and smiling faces, achingly bright sunlight and the rightful king who stands before him.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.”


End file.
